Slow and Steady
by StardustToRememberYouBy
Summary: "He was suddenly thankful for his desire to be a Forger, or he never would have met the goddess whose figure lay beneath his." Eames/OC. One-shot. T for sex that's not graphic! . Reviews are much-appreciated!


Sophie awoke with the groggiest start she'd had in years. The experiments her team had done using the PASIV device the day before were successful, but it had practically drained the life out of those who had gone under. She barely remembered stumbling back to her apartment—well, she remembered _stumbling_. A loud sigh escaped her partially opened lips as she pushed her body upwards, leaning back on the head-board while running her slender fingers through her mussed brunette locks.

She squinted in an attempt to regain her focus, zeroing in on her toes. They had been freshly painted in the shade "blood red" two days prior, and she had to admit it looked great against her very fair skin. She drew her exposed foot back underneath the black cotton sheets, suddenly coming to the startling realization she was topless. In a panic, she grabbed enough of the sheet to cover herself but soon calmed when she remembered that she usually slept topless—after all, this _was_ Mombasa that she lived in. Often-times, the nights in Mombasa were hotter than Hades, and the days were actually a fair bit cooler. A shrug came and went before she stood from the bed, the sheet trailing after her. Sophie crossed the room to her window, opening the wooden planks that were found there—instead of drapes or curtains—and peering down at the waking city below. She lived in an apartment building some twelve blocks from the headquarters of Cobol Engineering, and Sophie knew them all too well.

Cobol was the world's current leader in electricity and power, and they never let anyone forget it. They had hired Sophie some years ago as their personal forger. Under their jurisdiction, she was to come into the headquarters on-call and forge documents pertaining to mishaps and occurrences that had never actually happened. Cobol did this from time to time when they bought out smaller, weaker companies. What she did for a living was not, strictly speaking legal, but she loved it anyway. Of course, her second job also wasn't technically "legal", but that one was mostly because she was good at it. Her other job was in a state of dreaming, or "dream-scape". In that dimension, she was also a Forger, but of a different nature. In the dream-state, she could emulate anyone for the sake of gaining information. She would study her counterpart for weeks at a time and then become them in the dream world. It was a job not often achieved well, but over the years she had earned the status of Level One Forger, which is the highest level a Forger could attain. She was quite well-adapted to that world and enjoyed it a lot, and impersonating people right down to the way they blink was always a hobby for her, even as a small girl. But now, here she stood, a woman of twenty-four, peering down at the place where, she knew, she was not much more than a refugee. That was mostly to herself, because there was _one_ other person who believed in her and counted her as so much more than that.

"Morning," Sophie heard a low, not-quite-awake-yet voice say behind her. She turned around, a smile beaming across her face as she looked into the eyes of the man entering the room. This man, this six-foot-tall, sun-tanned, messy-haired man with his robe hanging half-open as his eyes told the story of a man with not enough sleep, was_ hers_.

"Daniel," she sighed as he came to her, tipping her chin up to look at him directly before wrapping his arms around her. "Good morning."

He smiled briefly before stooping to kiss her forehead, leaving his full lips there as he spoke. "You sound drowsy," he said, his English accent more relaxed than she remembered it being the previous night. "Are you feeling alright?"

Sophie nodded as she slipped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his broad chest. "I'm a bit sleepy, but I'll manage," she answered, closing her eyes for a moment.

Eames looked out the window. "Looks like the city is waking up."

"Does the city ever sleep?"

He nodded. "Not what _I_ see, but it does, in fact, sleep."

She moved her head to catch his gaze in hers. "_You_ would know."

He nodded, noticing how her eyes caught the light. "Your eyes are sparkling this morning."

She cocked an eyebrow, teasing him. "Would you like me to make them stop?"

He caught her face with both hands, hands that seemed to cover her entire head. "Don't you _dare_." He stooped a bit to plant his lips onto her full ones, his hands continuing to cradle her face. Her hands gripped his elbows. When he pulled away to rest his forehead on hers, her fingertips grazed the stubble on his chin, his lips. "There's porridge in the kitchen for breakfast, and there's a slice of egg and toast for you."

Sophie was taken aback—so much so that she backed up a bit, her brow knitted in confusion. "How very uncharacteristic of you…_you_ made _breakfast_?"

"Why can't I?"

Sophie dropped the sheet onto the floor, her top half fully exposed, as she crossed the room to find a t-shirt of hers lying on the floor. She slipped it on before answering to his perplexed look. "I'm not saying you _can't_…I'm merely saying it's weird."

Eames' arms dropped to his sides. "So now my girl _doesn't_ want me to make breakfast for her. Great." He began to storm from the room, furiously tying his robe shut. "See if I ever make food for you again." He slammed the bedroom door, leaving Sophie dumb-founded.

She felt horrible for even mentioning it, but she was _always_ confused when he acted out of character because it just wasn't like him to get sentimental. She and Eames had been dating for around eight months as of that morning, and they always referred to it as "casual" but, in reality, it was very serious. Clearly it was getting more serious than they were willing to admit, seeing as he had taken the time to make her breakfast. Neither was willing to say that it was serious, though it, clearly, _was_.

Sophie slipped out of her pajama shorts—leaving her underwear exposed—then slipped on a baggy t-shirt and left the bedroom. Stepping into the kitchen, she saw Eames hunched over their two-person table, munching on toast angrily. She crossed the room to where he was, placing her arms around his neck and running her hands down his robe.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, putting her mouth close to his ear.

"You should be," he said with a full mouth, which caused her to chuckle. She kissed his cheek twice and then planted one on his ear, nibbling gently before pulling away to take a seat.

She downed a slice of toast with egg and then a glass of milk while he started on dishes. Sophie stood behind him for a moment, watching him under the realization that she loved him. Of course, she would never be the one to say it first, but she was aware that he wouldn't do it first either. Quietly, she crept up behind him, standing on tip-toe to rest her chin on his shoulder.

"Leave them," she said into his ear.

"Darling, they have to be done," he said.

"I know, but just for now," she began, placing her hands onto his hands and gripping tightly so as he couldn't move, "leave them." She trailed light kisses up the side of his neck to his ear as she heard a faint, low-pitched moan echo in his throat.

"Now you're just teasing me," he said with a chuckle still with his back to her. "Darling, you know we haven't in a while…" Her stare was killing him—he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. "We're a little rusty…and by 'we', of course, I mean that _I'm_ a little rusty…"

Sophie leaned her head back, surprised to hear how self-conscious he was about his form. "Daniel, you know I've _never_ cared about how good either of us is. As long as I lay with you, the rest can go to hell."

She gave him a light kiss on the back of his neck before he turned to face her, once again cradling her face but gently, as though he didn't want to break her. He stooped to kiss her and unlike his still morning kiss, this one was hot and passionate. It _moved_ and _breathed_ as though the very essence of their kiss was alive. Sophie's arms encircled his neck as he grabbed hold of her thighs, hoisting her up so he could hold her and carry her. Blindly, he made his way to the bedroom, his hands placed on the area between her buttocks and her thighs. Very rarely did they have a nonsensical reason to make love, but this time, it was sweet and heartfelt as though their hands ached from the lack of each other's touch. Gingerly, he laid her down on her back on the bed, placing himself above her as they continued their passionate kiss. Smoothly without breaking his mouth from hers, he slid the robe off his shoulders and cast it aside, proceeding to do the same with his boxers.

Sophie pulled her shirt over her head and threw it against the adjacent wall. Eames had always loved her breasts: she wore a D-cup and it showed. He placed gentle kisses on both of them in turn before returning to her mouth. Sophie returned the kiss while simultaneously slipping off her panties—the final piece standing between them and total nudity. Eames broke the kiss momentarily, pushing her hair off her face with his fingers before lightly touching her kiss-swollen lips. He watched as she smiled up at him, her ice-blue eyes silently telling him she was ready—he had been ready for this moment since she had nibbled on his ear. It was his truest weakness where she was concerned, and she knew it. He positioned himself properly above her before looking down on her, moving ever so slightly to enter her. He knew he had entered the correct place when her left eye twitched just once—not from pain, but from the shock of such physicality. He anchored himself on his forearms and began his pace. It was slow and sweet—he took great care when he made love to her, as though she was something that could be broken. Sophie's eyes never looked away from his as his rhythm was steadily sending shivers of pleasure up her spine. When she couldn't hold the feeling in anymore, she groaned aloud before craning her neck up to catch his lips and then shifted to nibble on his ear. Eames rested his face in the crook of her neck, kissing that place fiercely. His pace, when steady, could last an hour, much to Sophie's delight.

After forty minutes of light moans and a steady pace, Eames knew he was nearing the moment. He quickened his rhythm, and Sophie was more than able to keep up the pace. His arm wound around her head, cradling it tenderly as he crashed his lips onto hers. The rhythm continued to quicken as both neared the moment simultaneously. Faster, faster he moved, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face as he became harder, harder, and soon his thrusts stopped as the moment happened. Sophie's moment was so intense her eyes welled up with tears. Eames' brow slanted at the sight of her.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked earnestly. He used the fingers on the arm that wasn't holding her head to push the hair in her face away from it.

She shook her head adamantly. "That was the most gentle you've ever been," she admitted. "What changed?"

"I couldn't bear it if I hurt you." His eyes searched her face, tracing its features with his index finger while his other hand was woven through her hair. "If I _ever_—"

Sophie moved up quickly, silencing him with a kiss. She touched his cheek jowls lightly, her eyes meeting his with urgency. "You would _never_." She smiled at him before laying her head back down, pulling his head onto her chest.

Eames waited a moment, just enjoying the scent of her skin, its softness in texture and the way it felt to just be with her. He was thankful for tangled sheets pooling around their bodies, for the blonde hairs on her arms and the way they caused his skin to tingle when they grazed it. He was suddenly thankful for his desire to be a Forger, or he never would have met the goddess whose figure lay beneath his. His free hand traced the contours and dips in her flesh, smiling lightly as he marveled in his perfect view of her.

Sophie sighed, a slight hum shaking somewhere deep within her throat as she stretched out, her arm spanning the breadth of his chest as she laid it down lightly on top of the small bed of his smooth chest hair.

"Who knew," she said after a moment.

"What's that, love?" he asked, his voice in a frame of leftover huskiness.

"Who knew a year ago when we met that we'd be right here, right now, like this?"

A smile crossed Eames' face. "Personally, _I_ knew."

She chuckled. "No, you didn't."

He nodded, his brow rising. "Yes, I did. When I met you and we shook hands, my immediate thought was—no lie—I'm gonna fall in love with this girl." He moved his hand up to her hair, laying his palm flat upon it. "I was a bit shocked at first like 'brain, what're you doing' and then time passed, we grew close. Eventually, my thought changed to 'brain, how did you know?' but it didn't matter…the point is I _knew_."

Sophie's eyes closed and her chin quivered as she placed her lips gently on his right pectoral epidermis, leaving them there for a moment before shifting so her cheek lay on that very spot. Eames shifted down a bit and took careful measure not to move her too much. She was so beautiful in his eyes, so fragile.

"I love you," each said simultaneously. Sophie moved her head to look at him, meeting his gaze as both chuckled.

"Not like we couldn't have seen _that_ coming," Eames said hoarsely as she put her lips against his neck, trailing kisses up to his ear and nibbling once. "Darling, we just finished and since we ain't done it in a while, I'm not sure I could go again just now—one more nibble, and we'll _have_ to."

She shrugged, leaning her face onto her right palm as she watched him. "I'm just happy," she murmured.

"Why?" He smiled. "_Besides_ the obvious."

"Neither of us said 'I love you' first. We said it together." She bit her lip. "It's a draw, which means I win."

Eames looked at her, his brow quizzical. "That's not _at_ all fair."

"Tie goes to the girlfriend."

Eames thought for a moment, narrowing his eyes. "…touché." He pressed his lips to her forehead with a chuckle as she nuzzled her face into his neck. He attempted to take hold of her eyebrow with his teeth, but failed and laughed instead.

**A/N: **What do you think? This character is for roleplay, like Aria, and I'm trying her out. Like what you read? Let me know if you want more! I've got more.


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